Tooth And Claw
by crescent-moon-demon
Summary: For every story, there are several inbetween stories. Your favourite autodogs and kittycons come to share their own adventures in this second collection of tales! Tie-in to With Perfect Abandonment, and Ears and Tails; ratings to vary. Includes Mech/Mech, incest, Spike n' Valve, and Mpreg.
1. Blades and First Aid

**C.M.D: It's not so much that I'm starting more fics... It's more like, I'm pushing the limit on how many chapters I can post for one, and thus, need to start a new fic... Because once again, I have severely underestimated how much I can write when inspired. Ahem, in either case, enjoy the next installment of shenanigans and drama, with new and old characters we all love!  
Starting with these two first...**

* * *

He watched him from afar...

White plating, so pristine. Glowing in the sunlight, striped with red, here and there. His adorable, smiling face -bared for once, instead of hidden behind a visor or mask- allowing the very sky to kiss his blushing cheekplates. Laughter, cute and warm, bubbled out from within; shimmering in his baby blue optics, even as they half-shuttered with his delight.

Primus... he was beautiful.

His brother: young, free, unmarred, perfect. Innocent... full of life and love...

The mech gripped the hilt of his knives, the grooves and dips in the steel biting harshly into his palms. His leathered palms... He was not innocent. He was not unmarred. There was nothing young or free left in his spark any longer. He was just insane; out of control; a killer; a monster. So much stained his servos.

But First Aid...

He sighed, taking a step back further into the shadows of his roost. The little australian shepherd was so... good. He had such compassion and warmth in his spark; more than enough to give to the whole world! Slaggit, the younger autodog even went and became a vet and everything!

How then, could he ever dare to think he should be near his baby brother?

Knowing how crazy he was, he was bound to probably taint First Aid in some way or form.

...but... Watching that little autodog, walk about so peacefully and merrily, always with a bounce in his step and kindness in his optics, made the stranger realize just how much there was to protect... and how much more there was to lose, if he didn't.

So what if he wasn't worthy of being near the other mech?

"Aid..."

At least he'd keep him safe. Even if it was from the shadows. And from mechs like himself.

"I...I love you...," Blades whispered, stepping back and fading from sight completely.

* * *

**C.M.D: P.S, most events here are of characters that either 1) I didn't have a chance yet to write about in the other fic, and/or 2) times and events that take place primarily after the aerialbots and combaticons settle into their semi-happy lifestyles.**


	2. Blades and First Aid II

**C.M.D: Aaaaaaand it's time for angst again, already. Just some quick things to note before you start. 1) As per usual, my friend Randomus' work has inspired me a little. 2) His fics are, unfortunately, still not up yet when it comes to these characters. 3) He has envisioned that First Aid's family suffered during the war. Namely in the fact that Blades was separated from them when he was barely a youngling, and spent the next few years turning into a blood-hungry killer as he desperately sought out his family again. 4) They managed to escape to Iacon, reunited shortly, before Blades was once again drafted back into the War, but as an honorary member of the Wreckers. The same third-party group that Onslaught joined. 5) Unfortunately, they did not escape without some sort of trauma. 6) And the Wreckers still function to this day, as an independant mercenary group that the government hires to handle any terrorist or domestic threats.  
Alright, so I hope that shoving that down your throats helps you a bit as you read, though I highly suggest reading Randomus' stuff once it is posted. He and I have a lot of things that don't match up together, in terms of timelines and characters, but we both heavily influence each other's work, and it's a great way to understand the bigger picture, without me spoiling everything. And so, without further ado, please, read on!**

* * *

**Rating: M**

* * *

Blades was coming.

First Aid practically ran through his front door, remembering to close it behind him a moment later, all abuzz with excitement. His carrier had called him last night to inform him that his estranged brother, Blades, would be stopping by Iacon for a visit. The bull terrier, usually so busy and never around, had promised to stop by at their parents' home for dinner that orn. It would be an understatement to say that First Aid was looking forward to seeing him again.

Since the time he was young, he'd always loved Blades. His brother was strong, fast, witty... A lot of mechs called him a monster, some even said he was insane. But for the australian shepherd, who knew the history that revolved around the older mech, he didn't care. Blades was Blades. He had always been that way. And nothing said or shown, could stop his gentle spark from caring for his brother as deeply as he did.

"I... I hope he likes my new outfit." The autodog smiled at his reflection in his berthroom mirror, carefully taking out his brand new clothes from the closet. Not one to usually care about overtly pretty or expensive things, First Aid had caved when he saw the simple but cute pale baby blue blouse at the boutique near the hospital. It had a trimmed collar and cuffs, with two buttons in the shape of little birds on the front. The sleeves wore fairly tightly around the arms and upper chest, but the bottom of the shirt was designed to billow out and sway freely. Coupled with a pair of brand new, navy blue slacks, the autodog thought the entire ensemble modest but beautiful and couldn't wait to show his brother his new purchase.

"Oh, but I better hurry!," he said to himself, jumping in surprise as he glanced at the clock on his nightstand. "I want to pick up a slice of his favourite cake before I go there." Tossing his clothes gently on his berth, First Aid scurried for his bathroom, throwing off his clothes as he went in his rush for the shower.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The walk to his parents' home was a pleasant one. The sun was shining warmly down on First Aid, but a cool breeze kept him from getting over-heated; ruffling his coat and his ears gently. Giggling at the soft touch, the autodog continued his trek, smiling and humming softly, swinging the little cake box in his servos back and forth carefully. He was just rounding the bend when First Aid thought to glance at his watch, smiling brightly as he read the time.

He was going to be earlier than expected, but that would be alright. His family would welcome him warmly all the same, and he knew this would allow him to spend more time with Blades.

"B-brother...," the white mech smiled serenely to himself. He had missed the bull terrier terribly since the last time he had seen him, and he hoped that Blades would stay around longer this time. He didn't like it when his brother disappeared for months at a time, only to come back with some sort of vague excuse and another small scar.

First Aid sighed. "I know he's fighting... I know that's what they make him do these days, but I..." He just wanted Blades to be happy. For him to feel like part of the family again. For him to want to stay and not run off on dangerous missions all the time. "...At least he always comes back to us," the autodog smiled.

Glancing upwards, the australian shepherd was overjoyed to see his parents' house. He couldn't keep down the bubble of excitement that grew within him and he increased his pace, eager to see his brother again.

"W-wait! Blades- mmphf!"

The small mech stopped dead in tracks at the sudden yelp, turning his helm towards the bushes that preluded the pathway leading to the nearby park.

Nervously, First Aid looked around himself, but there was no one else around to be seen and he heard something hit the ground hard on the other side; leaves rustling slightly with the motion. He... he had heard his brother's name, hadn't he? There couldn't possibly be that many 'bots around this area with the same name.

Slowly, he circled around, looking for a part in the foliage.

"M-mmm...," a voice gasped, mewling softly. Even to his confused processor, it sounded familiar, "P-primus, y-you're... you're s-so-" The words were cut off again, something wet sounding following, accompanied by soft groans and low growls.

Just as he thought he should turn back and leave the two well enough alone, First Aid found his part in the bushes; his optics glancing inside and flaring in horror at the sight that befell him. Tangled in each other's arms, frames grinding and mouths pressed firmly together... His brother Blades... and his other brother, Streetwise...

The australian shephered tripped backwards immediately, a servo pressing tight against his mouth, holding back his scream. His spark, swelled and writhed, tearing and ripping apart at this horrible revelation; tears flooding his vision as Streetwise gave another small moan, making the watcher flinch. N-no... this... This couldn't...

Before he even was aware of what was happening, First Aid was dropping his cake; stepping on the little box as he turned and bolted from the scene, trying not to wail in misery as his spark was crushed in his chestplates...

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Blades...

Blades and Streetwise...

First Aid wandered slowly down the street, arms hugging himself and optics turned down to the sidewalk. He didn't really know for how long he had been walking, or even where he was at the moment. He just... just felt so lost... Trying to think of something to do, of where to go, was an impossible task. The autodog just couldn't get his processor to think, because... because thinking meant remembering, and remembering hurt, because...

He had loved Blades. Loved him since the first time he saw him. Was saved by him. Maybe it was a childish crush at first, but he had grown up with these feelings in his spark. Blades never scared him, Blades was never a bad mech in his mind... Blades was good. Blades was kind.

Blades was his knight.

He loved him...

First Aid stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, finally lifting his helm and looking around him. All the stores had closed now; the city bathed in red and orange... Looking over his shoulder plating, he saw that the sun was really setting. The orn was coming to a close at last.

His poor, bleeding spark pulsed weakly at the sight of the sun dipping below the buildings, as if crying out in remorse...

W-why? Why did S-streetwise g-get... He was never going to say anything! Never! He could never be certain that Blades would ever return his feelings, and he did not wish to strain their already peculiar family situation by confessing any feelings for his brother. So why then did his oldest sibling, Streetwise, get Blades?

Why did he get to kiss him? To hold him and be held back? Why did he get to love him as he wished, and First Aid couldn't?!

"Well, well, well... What's wrong, sweetspark? Broken spark?" The australian shepherd turned slowly to the greasy voice, staring sadly up at the kittycon leaning against the wall next to him. His visor flared brightly at the autodog's attention; his lip components twisting upwards in a smirk.

"...leave me alone...," First Aid mumbled quickly, walking past the mech.

He tried not to cringe as he heard the other fall into step behind him. "See, I might do just as you ask... if it didn't sound to me like that's the very absolute opposite of what you wanted," the stranger chuckled. "Come on... Tell me what's on your mind. Maybe I can help?"

The white mech tried to increase his pace. "N-no you can't! You can't do anything at all! Now leave me alone!"

The kittycon swooped right into his path, shoving the autodog up against the adjacent building; leaning dangerously into his face. Optics flared, First Aid tried not to whimper, suddenly very aware of how tiny he was in comparison to this other mech. "I think...," the lynx started slowly, his words weaving a dark and hypnotic spell, "That maybe I can. You're in pain... So much of it." A finger stroked across his cheekplate, catching one of his tears. "You only wanted to love and be loved in return, but... but someone cheated you out that chance, didn't they? The one you love so sweetly, they chose another... Someone else you never had expected. Someone you just can't let have beat you."

Y-yes... If it, if it had been anyone other than Streetwise, First Aid would not have minded as much. He would have let Blades go, he was sure of it! But to know, that out of his two brothers... Blades had chosen Streetwise...

The lynx grinned victoriously, gently stroking the australian shepherd's cheekplates and ears. "Am I right? Is that the misfortune that befell your tender spark?," he cooed in cruel inquiry. "It's alright... You can tell me..."

First Aid choked at the sympathy in the other's words, even if he knew it was false. He just could not stand it any longer though. All he had wanted was to love Blades, and maybe, one orn, hopefully, to have his love in return. Now, he had no chance. Now, he was just pathetic. "H-he...," the autodog sobbed, dropping his helm to the floor. "I-i don't want to r-remember. I d-don't want t-to think about him a-anymore! I w-want to forget!"

The stranger was silent for a moment, before he leaned in further, purring as he bowed and craned his neck to stare into First Aid's miserable optics. "Now that... I think I can do," he grinned viciously, before his mouth slammed onto the autodog's; glossa slithering quickly into his gaping mouth.

First Aid squeaked and writhed, terrified. He tried to shove the other mech away, but he couldn't find the strength. His spark, it was still too weak, and his frame trembled at the sudden pleasure that spiked across his sensory grid as the kittycon slid a servo under his coat and up his shirt. Overwhelmed by it all, the australian shepherd actually stopped fighting, his weary thoughts thinking for a moment.

This mech... he was almost the same exact size and frame type as his brother. His visor held the same insane light like Blades, though it was crueler and more vicious, compared to the bull terrier's whose was more so broken and traumatized. His laughter was just as chilling, setting fur on end... He was so much like his brother and not, all at the same time. But for his aching spark... he was perfect...

Grabbing the stranger's sleeves, First Aid pushed back up into the other's mouth, trying to shove back his disgust and pain as he returned the lynx's kiss; breaking away an astrosecond after, panting and looking up at the mech pleadingly. "P-please... m-make me forget," he stuttered, a soft whine in his tone.

The grey mech leered, pulling the autodog close again. "Of course," he replied.

He only had a moment to realize what was happening before he was being shoved into the nearest alleyway, the kittycon slinking in after him. The red visor glowed brightly against the shadows as First Aid stumbled backwards, unnerved by the filth and unknown sounds surrounding him. "W-wait, maybe-"

The stranger cackled, stepping further and further into the alley, making the autodog back up until the exit was completely blocked by the other's looming frame. "You're not changing your mind now, are you?," he sneered. "Now, now..."

First Aid yelped as the stranger pounced, knocking him to the ground. He fell in something slimy, and it splashed all over his plating, coating thickly on his coat and ears. Whimpering, the australian shepherd attempted to shove the other mech back and scramble away, but he was unable to. The lynx laughed mockingly at his attempts, shoving him back down against the ground, yanking his coat up and over his helm.

"Remember," he hissed, throwing the autodog's helm aside, "You agreed to this. You can't back out now."

The vet twisted his helm to the side as the lynx leaned into his face, his glossa sliding across his cheekplate. The stranger was right, First Aid realized with horror. He had consented to this. This was all started by him... and he knew that the kittycon's type was not the kind to let go of its prey so easily. Whimpering in resignation, he did not even protest as the stranger tugged his pants down next, flipping him over and nudging his legs apart.

"Lil' pup, lil' pup," the lynx purred, breathing down his backstruts, "Let me in..." Sharp fingers dug into the seams of his codpiece, frightening First Aid. Not wanting to be hurt, he quickly snapped the plating back, shivering as a sob bubbled up in his chestplates; almost escaping him as he could feel the stranger shift behind him, studying his bare interface array. Something hard and long, but still thin, pressed against his aft, slowly trailing down to his valve, circling teasingly around the edges.

"Well, well, well," the other said, cruel joy rich in his words, "A seal? A pathetically, weak one... but a seal, nonetheless. How old are you, hmm? Certainly not a youngling... and yet you're still sealed? Heh, I pity the idiot that cast you aside. You're sure to be a nice treat."

First Aid shivered, tears pooling in his optics as he trembled hard, yipping shortly as a finger slammed against his seal; breaking it and plunging straight into his virgin valve. He tried not to scream, attempted to hold still, his processor running through several standard text-book ways the valve could tear or rip. He didn't want to be hurt... he didn't want to be in pain anymore...

The lynx ground slowly against his backside, pants still up for the time being, but the australian shepherd didn't expect it to stay like that for long. He hoped that the rough fingers curling and pushing impersonally into his valve could prepare him enough for what would come shortly after. Hot breath cycled over his ears, making them twitch and allowed him no mental escape from this nightmare.

"Mmmm... so nice... so lovely," the kittycon mumbled, the sound of a zipper echoing loudly in the darkness. First Aid's optics flared, his whole frame tensing as the lynx ripped his fingers out of his valve, hissing as the claws caught along the tender edges. "You're going to enjoy this, I think. Even if not..." The other laughed cruelly. "I will."

Something larger and harder pressed against his valve now, and First Aid tried not to sob as he felt the the lynx grab his hips, pushing forward inch by inch. "W-wait, p-please, I d-don't r-really think-," he choked. His protests turned into a strangled scream as the kittycon slammed in the rest of the way, no longer caring for the smaller mech under him or the state he could leave his frame in afterwards.

Pressed to the ground, cheekplate scraping slightly against the pavement, he couldn't see how all of this could get any worse...

Voices began to echo within his helm, taunting him.

_Oh, look at him! First Aid is so cute- getting Blades tea and cookies in his little apron._

_He really does love his big brother._

The australian shepherd gasped, fingers digging against the ground as the stranger grabbed his shoulder plating, pulling him back hard as he thrust upwards; pain shooting up into his helm as his valve stretched uncomfortably. It seeped a bit more lubricant, trying to remain slick enough to avoid tearing... First Aid only hoped that it worked.

_...You love me, huh, Aid?_

His partner didn't seem to care either way though, and he broke out into a vicious pace quickly, pushing the autodog against the pavement more as he lifted his aft up higher for his spike. Tears quickly pooled in First Aid's optics and he let them, too preoccupied on holding back his sobs and whimpers as his frame and spark shared different degrees of agony.

_Y-yes! I love you lots big brother! You're my knight in shining armour!_

"You're very tight, you know?," the lynx purred cruelly, leaning forward to mutter into the autodog's ear. First Aid tried not to flinch, but he did choke as the larger mech grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from his face and pinning them against the pavement. "Oooh... Primus," he groaned, snapping his hips forward, "Gotta love that about virgins... You've a-all got that, mmmm, nice, t-tight valve first time 'round. T-too bad it's only a one time use."

The australian shepherd sobbed.

_Knights in shining armour are usually good, you know. I wouldn't be calling me a hero if I were you._

The kittycon nipped sharply at his ears now, his thrusts long and powerful, obviously seeking to make more sound fall from his trembling lip components. First Aid didn't want to. He didn't want to make the other mech even more aroused than he already was, finding himself enjoying this even less and less and tormented all the same. He had made a mistake. He shouldn't be doing this, he should-

"A-ahhh!," he yelped, sobbing and choking as the fangs dug deep into his neck cables suddenly. He could feel the stranger smirk against his tender plating, mouthing and lapping at the wound richly now, rocking faster into the autodog as he started to groan and gasp, having lost control over his vocalizer.

Of course, he thought faintly, he liked hearing others in pain...

_But you are! You came and saved us all when we were stuck in that horrible place. Like a knight, you swooped in with your sword drawn and rescued us from the bad mechs. You are a brave and strong mech, big brother. And my hero!_

So overcome with pain was he, his thoughts preoccupied with his misery, he didn't notice that a charge, astoundingly, had been building all the same within him, until First Aid's gasps and whimpers of pain suddenly turned into choking, short pants of need. Need for fulfillment, need for release. He could hear the other mech chuckle above him and it sent his spark withering, even as the autodog arched and slammed back into the stranger jerkily; his valve giving a spasm before it rippled and clenched tightly around the spike ramming inside.

The kittycon's amusement turned into a lustful snarl as he was suddenly clutched hard, ripping out and slamming back in, the valve making wet, sucking squelches as their two units met again in the final, short, hard thrusts. Gasping, First Aid whimpered deliriously, lubricants seeping out of his valve as he overloaded. The lynx kept going, snarling and hissing under his intakes; one servo slapping against First Aid's mouth as he yanked the autodog back against him roughly, purring as he overloaded.

_A warm chuckle... A hero, huh? Well, when you put it that way, Aid, I guess I kinda am. I'm glad to be your hero._

The australian shepherd trembled, hot, vicious tears filling his optics again as the lynx dropped him, leaving him to lie there; pulling out slowly, purposefully rubbing up against the spent autodog one last time, before rising to his pedes completely. "Thanks for the frag, cutie," he chuckled darkly. "I had a sweet time."

First Aid did not reply, pushing himself up weakly and sitting, hunched over, until the other mech had left entirely. It seemed to take him kliks to be strong enough to get up on his pedes, and only to realize that the stranger hadn't bothered to watch his actions during the 'face. The entire back seat of his pants was splattered with a combination of lubricants and transfluid. Trying not to sob in shame, First Aid quickly pulled his pants back up, shivering in disgust as he felt the wet material cling to his aft.

He grabbed his coat and tied it around his waist, using it as a means to cover himself, without being too obvious. It was much, much colder without it on, but to walk around with that distinctive mark on him... it would be too much for him to bear, overall.

Slowly, the autodog turned towards home.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

A red light was flashing when he entered his dark apartment.

Not even bothering to flip on the light switch, First Aid locked the door behind him, crossing the room and standing weakly before his phone. He stood there silently for several kliks, before a lone finger rose, pressing the playback button on the machine. It whirred and beeped to life, a mechanical voice informing him that he had seven new messages.

"First new message..."

"Hi, First Aid," Groove's rich voice flowed through the speaker, echoing loudly in the quiet apartment, "It's your mom. I was just calling to remind you that your brother Blades is coming for dinner tonight and so the whole family is getting together. I know you work, but once you're done your shift sweetie you should come over. We look forward to seeing our lil' baby soon."

The machine clicked as it started on the next message.

"First Aid, it's your mom again. It's a few kliks after five... I haven't yet gotten a call from you and I just wanted to check in with you. You're still coming tonight, aren't you? Give me a call if you're running late, please."

"Honey... it's me again. You still haven't called and it's now been an hour. I-is everything alright? Your brother Blades has come a long way to see us all; you shouldn't keep him waiting! Please call me."

"Aid, it's getting really late now and you still haven't gotten back to me yet. Dinner's on the table and I'm r-really worried. Are you okay? What's wrong? Did something come up? Please, please if you could just give me a call and put my worried processor to rest, I'd be much obliged."

"F-first Aid, a-are you home?! Your dad and I are r-really, really worried now. T-this isn't like you First Aid! P-please, please call us if you're okay! W-we just want to know that you're alright! Your b-brothers are starting to get anxious now too, and Blades-"

His finger pressed on the button again, cutting off the rest of the message. In the dark, the screen lit up, asking him if he wanted to delete all the messages. The autodog pressed confirm, stepping away from the machine as it beeped again, the mechanical voice informing him politely that he had no messages. The light in the bathroom stung his optics as he turned it on, but First Aid ignored it, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him.

He turned then to the mirror, almost surprised by the mech staring back at him. White and red plating was scuffed and flecked with dirt, ears matted against his helm. His optics were dim and unfocused, ringed by tears that had fallen down his face and dried on the journey home. His frame was trembling still, minutely, and his servos hung loosely by his sides, as if he did not have the will to lift them anymore. And his clothes... The nice outfit he had bought and worn specifically for today was yanked and stained, dirty and a little frayed about the hems now.

Ruined...

It was all ruined.

Quickly, the autodog turned away from the mirror, ripping the clothes off of his frame -unable to stand having them hang from his filthy body anymore, but unable to see himself bare for the mirror mech to judge. As he tore the blouse and pants off, a knot grew tighter and tighter in his throat, until First Aid was gasping and choking around it; coolant rising to his optics and flooding his vision.

He barely had the time to turn on the shower, scalding water spraying down in the tub's basin, before he broke down completely; crumbling, falling into the tub, curling into himself as he wept. Ashamed, disgusted, angry, hurt and more spark-broken then he had ever been in his life previously...

* * *

**C.M.D: Let the angst... begin~ = D  
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW please?**


	3. Inferno and Red Alert

**C.M.D: Oh, lookie~ I'm finally getting around to more characters! Isn't that fun ^ ^ At this rate, I might end up doing the whole fragging G1 cast... In either case, enjoy the newest set of drama and fluff coming your way!**

* * *

To his horror, his parents decided to move them out to the country.

"Noooo! I don't like it here! Help! Let me ooooooooout!"

"Would you stop kicking the car door! Fraggit, you're loud!"

"Sideswipe!"

Yuss was supposed to be a nice, quiet town. It was really the middle of nowhere, if someone had to pick a way to describe it, but it was filled with several dozen autodogs -all friendly and good-natured folk. Just the kind of environment the psychiatrist said their son needed.

"I-it's... it's soooo open! Ahh! Where's the walls!? Where's the traffic, the noise, the cut-throat gangsters hidden in the alleyway?!"

"Honey, there's no such thing here. It's all-"

"LIES! They're all hiding in the cornstalks, waiting to murder me! HELP!"

"Told you this idea sucked aft..."

"SIDESWIPE!"

Deciding that Red Alert's paranoia was becoming too much living in the city, his parents decided to pack up their home and things and drive all the way out to this scrawny, little town, surrounded by corn and wheat and cows on every front. They hoped it would calm him down. The fit he threw on the day they moved in suggested otherwise so far...

"Stop picking on your brother!"

"Why should I?! It's because of him that we had to move! Now I can't go to the skating park after school, the local burger joint, see my friends..."

"...y-you're just angry because you can't see Cheetor anymore..."

"SHUT UP!"

"...this is going to be a long day..."

But despite how much he might have protested, his parents made it clear to Red Alert (and Sideswipe) that they were staying in Yus and that was final. The youngling immediately set to rocking on the porch of their new home, staring out in mute horror at the farmers' fields around them; ears perked in fright and on the verge of another panic attack, while his family went about unloading their boxes from the truck.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"S-so... this is it..."

"Our new, crappy school."

Sideswipe and Red Alert stood beside each other, staring up at their new school with mixed expressions of horror and annoyance.

"Well..."

"Well what?," the other doberman asked, shifting his knapsack testily. "We've gotta go inside and find the office for this slagging place and then head on over to our slagging classes. There's nothing else to do... not in this fragging aft of a town."

Red Alert frowned a little, uncomfortable with his brother's swearing. "Mom said you should stop swearing so much...," he pointed out.

"And mom says you should stop thinking everybody's out to kill you," Sideswipe retorted. "Come on," he huffed, taking a step for the building, "Let's get this slag over with so I can get back home and on the web. I've got newbs to fry."

Red Alert scrambled after the other's heels, gripping his knapsack straps tightly as they walked through the doors. The sight of the long and clean hallways got him to start hyperventilating, his intakes coming in shorter and shorter bursts. A smack upside the helm had him choking before his breathing evened out into normal again.

"Would you stop that?," Sideswipe hissed as they approached the office. "You're going to make everyone think you're a freak and then I'm gonna have to deal with all the bullslag from your bullies again!"

"S-sorry!," the smaller mech squeaked as he was pulled into the office. The other autodog ignored him as they stepped up to the secretary's desk, leaning against it and smirking cockily at the 'bot behind. She did not look impressed.

"And you are...?"

"Hello," Sideswipe grinned, "We're the new students. I'm the devilishly handsome Sideswipe..." He trailed off, before jabbing a thumb in the other mech's direction. "And that's Red Alert."

The secretary said nothing as she turned to her computer, typing the keys and yanking the two sheets that spat out of the printer at her side. "There you go," she informed flatly, "Your schedules. One of you is starting in Home Ec and the other in Biology. Your names are on top of the sheets."

"Y-you mean...," the smaller autodog tittered anxiously, "W-we're not g-going to b-be together?!" Both the femme and Sideswipe gave Red Alert a dry look.

"Thanks, gorgeous," the other doberman purred as he swiped the schedules from the secretary's servos. "See you around!" The femme rolled her optical sensors and returned to her magazine.

"Si-sideswipe! Sideswipe, t-they can't just-" Red Alert tugged viciously on his brother's sleeve as the other mech steered him out into the hallway again, ears drooped and optics almost white with fright. "I m-mean, m-my condition- Mo-momma s-said-!"

Sideswipe shook the smaller autodog off easily, frowning at him irritably. "Yeah, well, Mom can't control the school board, Red. Now...," he continued, shoving Red Alert's schedule into his servos, "Would you calm down? This place is fragging dull and boring -nothing bad's gonna happen here. And even if it does, I'm only going to be a couple classrooms away. This hick town's not exactly big or anything..."

"B-but..." Red Alert looked up at the black mech pleadingly, but only was met with a firm shake of Sideswipe's helm. Sighing, the shorter doberman padded off, smoothing out his schedule and trying to locate where his first period class was going to be.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Whoever decided Home Ec would be a good class for him, obviously wasn't thinking.

Especially not when roaring flames was the the first thing Red Alert saw when opening the door. Shrieking in fright, the doberman tried to flee but slipped instead on something wet coating the floor, taking a slide further into the room of the pit, and into something hard. "INFERNO!," a teacher's voice screamed over the din in the terrified autodog's own helm.

"S-sorry, sir! Jus', gotta... one more se- Aha! 'ere!" The flames started to subdue and the smoke was waved away quickly, until neither were a problem anymore. Coughing as some was blown in his direction, Red Alert tried to sit up and found the task to be a little difficult.

"O-ow..." Oh no... it felt like his ankle had gotten twisted!

"W-wha...? Oh! Sorry, mech, Aye didn't see ya 'ere! Are ya alright?" A sharp blade shined as it lowered towards Red Alert, throwing the autodog into a greater panic than the one he was already experiencing.

"P-please! D-don't kill me!," he screamed, turning and trying to leap away from the insane knife-wielder. His attacker shuttered his optics in surprise, quickly putting the knife down and raising both servos, to show that he was unarmed to the panicked mech.

"Look... Aye ain't got it no more. Aye ain't gonna hurt ya...," he tried to soothe, ears drooping a bit as Red Alert adamantly continued trying to crawl away from him. The other students in the classroom looked over their tables and stoves perplexed; one or two leaning over to their lab partners to whisper something snide. The teacher, wiping ash onto his stained apron, looked down on the troubled youngling with an air of indifference, sighing.

"I suppose you must be the new boy, Red Alert. I guess a 'welcome' is in order..."

"U-umm, r-really...," the strange student was still trying to speak to Red Alert, even lowering down onto his knees so he wouldn't seem so intimidating. "Y-ya shouldn't c-crawl 'round on the floor... Aye ain't g-gonna c-cook no more an' Aye p-put 'ot the fire, s-so..."

The doberman gave an audio-splitting shriek as a black servo came reaching for him, attempting to spring up and bolt away, when his twisted ankle proved traitorous and sent Red Alert crashing into the nearest counter. Processor spinning at the helm collision, the youngling slumped to the floor, weakly whimpering.

"Inferno!"

"S-sir! A-aye, aye swear Aye d-didn't m-mean t-ta-!"

"Just get him to the infirmary, please! And while you're at it- _stay there_!"

The younger mech cringed a little bit at the order, before nodding and mumbling a 'yes, sir'; cautiously approaching the dazed Red Alert and picking the smaller 'bot up. "It's alright," he whispered kindly to him as he walked out the classroom door. Red Alert frowned a little, not understanding a single thing going on. "Aye'm j-jus' gonna take ya ta the infirm'ry an' the nurse'll fix ya up real good. Sorry 'gain 'bout the scare..."

The doberman only had a moment to realize that he was being apologized too, before he blacked out.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Miss Glyph, Aye... Aye I had an accid'nt in 'Ome Ec 'g-gain!" The german shepherd kicked open the door in a slight panic, stumbling inside, the unconscious autodog still in his arms. He whined though when he saw that the school nurse was nowhere in sight.

"Oops...," Inferno mumbled, glancing behind him, "Door mus' have been lock'd..." Tearing his optics away from the cracked door frame, the taller autodog hurried across the medical room, gently setting the new-comer down on the berth.

"Ahh, niblets. What am Aye gonna do?" The youngling wrung his servos together nervously as he fussed, looking about the room. "Aye gotta do somethin'. Aye's the one who hurt the poor fella..." Glancing again at Red Alert, Inferno sighed, before straightening up determinedly and rifling through the cupboards. He was pulling out gauze, cotton swabs, a bottle of Isopropyl alcohol and medical tape from one of the drawers when he heard the small groan from behind him.

"W...what happened...?"

"O-oh, 'ey! Yer awake!," Inferno barked excitedly, whirling around, arms full of his finds. "'Ow are ya feelin'?"

That... might not have been the smartest thing to say. The groggy doberman went from lethargic and slow, to plastering himself against the wall, breathing heavily and erratically, in under astroseconds. Seeing the shaking, whimpering youngling made Inferno's ears droop contritely, and he hurried to put his load down on the nurse's desk.

"L-look, Aye'm s-sorry 'bout scarin' ya back in 'Ome Ec," he assured softly, servos lifted at a safe height; palms open and turned to the ceiling. "Aye didn't mean ta do s-so... A-aye 'ope ya'll forgive meh. Um... y-ya hurt? A-anythin' b-bruisin' o' a-achin'?" He kept his tone soft, slow, and always maintained optic contact. Just like when he was dealing with frazzled cattle, the smaller youngling slowly began to relax; peeling away from the wall and sinking back onto his seat cautiously.

Inferno kept his distance, smiling kindly still, but he took a step forward as soon as the doberman went to slide off the berth. "O-oww...," Red Alert whimpered as he applied weight to his ankle, making it twist under him.

"W-wait now! Don't m-move." The german shepherd crossed the room in three, long strides, gently grasping the other mech by the arms and lifting him back onto the berth. Red Alert whimpered at the unexpected action, flailing wildly.

"S-stop! I'll scream!," he yelled desperately, "I-i'll scratch out your optics! I can! I can do th-that!" He tried to kick at Inferno, to make the taller youngling back away, and only ended up slamming his twisted ankle against the other's thigh.

Inferno jolted as the thin mech yipped in pain, freezing up entirely. Taking a step back, he grabbed the nurse's chair and pulled it up; plopping his bottom onto it as he gently grabbed the smaller autodog's heel. "Ah... ya twist'd it somethin' fierce...," he mumbled, rolling up the pant leg a bit, so he could better inspect the scuffed plating. He smiled apologetically up at the quiet doberman staring down at him.

"Lemme jus' git ya some wraps an' we'll fix ya up nicely." He lowered the pede back beside its twin, before getting up and crossing the room again. He had seen wraps earlier, but had brushed by them, not thinking they were needed. Now he just had to remember which drawer they were in...

"Aha!," he beamed excitedly, having found them again, "Aye got-"

"RED ALERT!" The german shepherd was cut off by the shout, as another doberman came barreling into the room; servos curled into fists and a concerned grimace on his white faceplates. His optics first lighted on the squeaking doberman, before they turned and narrowed at Inferno.

"And who the slag are you?," he growled, hackles rising.

Inferno shuttered his optics quickly at the sudden aggression, scowling slightly at the other's rudeness. "Aye'm Inf-"

"Ah, shut it!," the black mech snarled. "I don't give two frags who you are. Get out!"

"W-what?! Listen, Aye-"

"I said SCRAM, country hick!" Inferno wasn't the type to usually back down, but when the other youngling took a threatening step towards him, he glanced quickly at the shivering mech on the berth; servos cupped about his face anxiously and little whimpers of fear escaping from between his fingers.

Now, the german shepherd was forced to admit, was not the time or place to get into a fight with some stranger.

Inferno put the wrap on the counter, turning and walking from the room quickly. The black doberman refused to move for him, and purposefully clipped his shoulder as the bigger mech left. Concerned about his smaller classmate, Inferno glanced behind him as he walked through the doorway, but he only glimpsed Red Alert before the office door was slamming in his face.

Servos curling into fists, he forced himself to turn away.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"Can't believe you spazzed out not even five kliks into your class..."

Red Alert sat absolutely still, cringing as Sideswipe angrily wrapped his ankle.

"Caused a fragging scene... Got everyone talking already..."

Keeping his noise down to a bare minimum, he did not comment or otherwise protest to his brother's wide use of cursing as he grumbled and muttered to himself. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the other doberman was upset.

Cursing again, Sideswipe pulled the wrap tight, making the smaller youngling whimper slightly as it became too taut, hurting his ankle further. At the sound, the black autodog paused, glancing up at Red Alert.

"...ah, frag, Red," he sighed softly, irritation noticeably less in his vocalizer. Sideswipe turned his helm back down, gently undoing the bandage and starting again from the beginning. "Listen, I'm not... mad... at you, per say, I'm just... Slaggit, you know I'm ticked off! I can't protect you if you're always letting your fears get the better of you, Red!"

At the statement, the red and white mech shook, sniffling as he tried to hold back tears. "I-i-i know, 'S-sides, but I-i..."

Sideswipe's ears lowered an inch guiltily, and he quickly fixed his brother's wrap, before getting to his pedes. "Come on, now...," he hushed gently, sitting on the berth beside Red Alert; rubbing his arm slowly in a half-hug. "Don't cry 'Red... Sunny wouldn't want you too. If he was here, what... w-what would he do, huh?"

At the name, the smaller doberman sobbed loudly, pulling his knees up to his chestplates as he buried his face from view. The black youngling startled at the unexpected reaction, desperately trying to cajole his brother out of his self-made shell.

"I-i'm sorry, Red! I should have-"

"H-he le-left me, S-sideswipe!," Red Alert wailed through his knees. "I-i-i m-made him s-so mad th-that he d-decided he w-wanted to l-leave a-and that's w-why he went! B-because I-i'm a n-no-good c-crybaby a-and a fre-freak! S-sunstreaker d-didn't w-want a b-brother like m-me, he d-didn't-"

Sideswipe grabbed the other autodog's arm, yanking him up and out of crying, staring down at the whimpering youngling sternly. "Now you listen here, Red, and you listen good," he said, vocalizer catching, "S-sunstreaker never left you! He loves you, just as I love you, and Mom loves you, and Dad loves you... H-he... He just made a mistake, th-that's all. He would have never done anything to take him away from us, nor you. You understand?"

Slowly, Red Alert nodded.

"...good," the black mech vented, wiping at his brother's tears. He didn't mind it at all, when Red Alert nuzzled into his servo shyly, before resting his helm on his shoulder; fingers clasped tightly around his arm. It was a safety thing he used to do when they were sparklings and he got scared. He would cling to either Sideswipe or his other brother, Sunstreaker, until the terrors had been soothed away.

Unfortunately, Red Alert's terrors had been much, much worse since Sunstreaker had left their lives.

"...'S-sides...," a soft vocalizer whispered.

"Yea, Red?"

"D...do you think Sunny will ever come back?"

Sideswipe smiled sadly. "Yeah, of course he will. He's our brother -our triplet. He's gotta come home to us one day. They can't keep him away forever, you know."

Red Alert nuzzled closer, shoulders slumping tiredly. "...I f-freaked out in class...," he confessed quietly. "I... I don't t-think a-anyone will b-be my friend now..."

The other youngling stayed silent for a long moment at that, before he cycled a heavy intake. "Well... If they don't want to be your friends, then, well," Sideswipe mumbled uncertainly, "You don't need people like that in your life anyways. I promise you though, Red, I won't let anyone hurt you. I've got your back, you always know that."

Again, the smaller doberman snuggled closer. Rolling his optical sensors, his brother decided to let him stay like that until the school bell rang over their helms, startling Red Alert for an astrosecond. "Alright," he said, shoving the white autodog off. "I've got Math and I'm fairly sure you've got a History class to get to."

"B-but-"

"No, buts Red," Sideswipe frowned. "And try not to spazz again, okay? Mom's gonna worry enough when she finds out you twisted your ankle."

Sighing at that truth, Red Alert reluctantly slid off the berth, doing his best to keep his weight off of his injured pede. His brother helped him to the door, but as soon as they were out in the hallway, Sideswipe bid him farewell and disappeared into the rapidly growing crowd. Trying to shake off the paranoid thoughts already creeping in, Red Alert hobbled onto his next class.

* * *

**C.M.D: I'm gonna have fun with these three~  
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	4. Blades and First Aid III

**C.M.D: It's time for more angst! ...Again! I write too much angst, I think... In either case, it's time yet again to update this fic with some First Aid goodies! Now, my friend Randomus has finally put up the first chapter of his Wreckers fic [ /s/8982881/1/Wreckers-Online] but he hasn't had the chance yet to put up the rest he has written and I've... gotten a little impatient to say the least, so I'll post up this one for today. Even sooner, I may post the rest~  
Anyways, I won't keep anyone any longer -read on my inquisitive readers!  
Rating: T**

* * *

He had to move... had to keep going... had to...

First Aid flinched as he turned the corner too fast, his valve lining tearing a little, causing him a stinging pain. He had thought he'd been alright last night -thought at the least that he was going to be able to get over his run-in with that stranger- but he had severely underestimated how much damage his valve had really taken with the rough, impromptu interface. He should have just stayed home, he should have-

No. The autodog shook his helm. He couldn't stay home because that meant calling into work and admitting that there was a problem in his life. It meant listening to the phone ring and ring and ring, as his carrier called him in a panic, leaving hysterical messages to fill his invoice. It meant sitting around in the dark, shivering, acutely aware that if he really wanted to, Blades could come slamming through his front door or crawling through his window any klik and-

First Aid quickly swallowed back his whimper, escaping into the nearest room. He was lucky- it was an empty patient's quarters. Realizing he was really alone, he could not stop the tears that rose quickly; whirling around and closing the door in a hurry, before retreating into the farthest corner of the room and collapsing.

"B-blades...," he sobbed uncontrollably, thick, hot tears spilling down his cheekplates.

Even now, when his brother was the very cause of his pain, he was crying out for him. He wanted -needed- to be saved again. To have all his fears slashed away, the strange kittycons removed and his faith to be restored. He wanted things to be how they were before yesterday...

Through his tortured whimpers, the australian shepherd almost didn't hear as the door was opened, but it was harder to miss the slight creak in the hinges, and the old voice that said, "Hello... do I hear a young one cr- F-first Aid?"

The assistant snapped his helm up in horror, looking through his watery vision at his superior. "R-ratchet, s-sir, I-i-i-" First Aid quickly wiped at his optics, turning his gaze away from the older autodog, scrambling to get up onto his pedes. Glancing behind him to make sure no one noticed him, Ratchet stepped into the room, closing the door and locking it behind him.

"Stop...," he ordered gently, coming up to the frantic mech. "You're going to scratch your optics that way." He pulled First Aid's servos away from his face, staring down at the other autodog with concerned, dim optics.

"First Aid... what's wrong?," Ratchet softly asked. "When you came into work today, I thought something was off... but you didn't say anything and so I had assumed... I'm sorry. I won't make that mistake again."

"N-no; i-it's nothing!," First Aid protested weakly. He tried to pull away from the labrador, but the older mech held him securely, and truthfully, the smaller autodog just couldn't work up the spark to act so viciously towards Ratchet. Not to the mech who, without asking or obligation, had supported and cared and protected him all these orns...

_'W-why couldn't I h-have fallen for y-you instead?!'_

Ratchet scowled now, his fingers curling in his anxiousness. "It's obviously not nothing, First Aid!," he barked shortly, "You're tucked away in a room, crying as if the whole world was collapsing around your ears! Please..." He softened his tone, regretting the fact that he had lost his patience with his assistant, even for a short while. "Tell me... I only want to help."

_No, I can't tell you..._

_How do I possibly explain everything that's happened?!_

_What could you do to make the fact that I lost my virginity to some rapist better?!_

_I don't want you! I want Blades!_

_Why... Why do I h-have to love him..._

First Aid didn't realize he had started sobbing again, until he felt old fingers gently wipe at his cheekplates, diverting the flow of tears for an astrosecond. "...Maybe I should just send you home for the day. I don't think this is the right place for you to be and-"

"N-no!," he gasped, clutching Ratchet's sleeves in desperation. "P-please, sir!," he begged, "D-don't send me home! I, I couldn't- I c-can't-"

The labrador looked honestly contrite as he grabbed the other autodog's wrists again, freeing himself. "I'm sorry, First Aid," he apologized heavily, "But I can not permit you to stay. You're practically hysterical... It'll do neither you nor your patients any good for you to work in this state. By law, I-"

"_Please?!_," the australian shepherd pressed, unable to keep it together any longer. He threw himself at Ratchet's frame, hiccuping and choking on his wails as he tried to make his plea heard. "I-i'll c-clean the o-o-office! I-i-i'll t-take ca-care of a-all your pa-paperwork! I-i'll e-even v-vaccum t-the drapes! J-just, just...p-please... d-don't s-send me ho-home... I... I-i c-can't... ca-can't s-stand to b-be a-alone..."

First Aid trembled as he felt a warm servo gently cup the back of his helm; slowly petting down the crest as he was pulled closer into the other's embrace. "Hush, First Aid...," he could hear Ratchet softly whisper near his helm.

Ratchet never spoke so calmly; Ratchet was terrible at sympathy.

Fresh tears pooled in the smaller autodog's optics.

"You're fine now... I'll be here. You don't have to go home."

Unable to resist the much needed comfort, First Aid turned his face into the labrador's shirt, crying harder as he clung to the older mech.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

He spent the entire orn in Ratchet's office. He had tried -really had- to work like he promised, but his spark just wasn't in it. Eventually, he gave up entirely and sat, staring blankly out the window. He wasn't sure what to think anymore, or what to feel. He just knew he wanted it to stop...

The orn passed fairly quickly and even though his superior had been so supporting all the passing cycles, he had pressed that the australian shepherd go home and get some real rest. "I can't stay here any longer," the labrador had said softly, "Nor can you. It's already past midnight... You need sleep just as much as anyone else. And you'll find none of it staying here."

First Aid hadn't bothered protesting.

What was the point?

He gathered his things and left the hospital, not even being cautious like he used to as he wandered down the empty, dark streets back to his apartment. The autodog moved as if he was in a daze, going up, up, up the stairs of his building and opening his door. He shuttered his optics as he entered the apartment, only for the first time realizing where he was; forgetting that he had even made the journey to begin with.

The small, rational part of him that still spoke with all of its medical wisdom, commented that this was not a good sign.

He ignored it.

Walking forward slowly, First Aid beckoned to the silent call of a little, lonely red light that flashed incessantly on his phone. He stood over it, helm canted to the side, wandering in his thoughtless thoughts what it could possibly mean.

He slowly raised a finger, pressing the play button on the machine.

"First Aid!," a shrill voice cried out from the speaker. He cringed, a small part of him withering in fear. _Mom_.

"H-how... how could you w-worry us like this?! We thought something had happened! We thought you were DEAD! H-how, how c-can you be s-so callous to us! Y-you know y-your father and I-i still s-suffer from n-nightmares! A-are you so insensitive?! A-and your siblings – you h-had S-streetwise and your s-sister I-ignis struck w-with worry! I-ignis is STILL crying! I-it took us calling t-the hospital t-to find out t-that you w-were alright, a-and even then, you never thought to call us back and tell us yourself! Y-you... you... WHO ARE YOU?! Why w-would you do t-this to us First Aid?! W-why a-are you being so cruel? Y-your brother, Blades... h-he's gone now, First Aid. H-he had to leave for another mission. He's hardly around as it is, a-and we never know when we m-might see him last! A-all we c-can try to do is make him f-feel at home a-and loved, a-and then you had to b-be so ho-horrible a-and i-ignore us, a-and now Blades-"

The rest of the message broke in a vicious squeal of static as the australian shepherd lunged forward, ripping the phone off the jack. He screamed, throwing the machine at the wall, servos clawing at his face as it cracked the plaster before falling to the floor. Even then, he couldn't erase the sound of his own carrier -screaming, crying, accusing him- from his helm, and First Aid fell on the damaged phone; shaking fist pounding the machine, harder and harder, plastic snapping and breaking, cutting into his servo but he would not stop until the pain in his spark did.

...a broken, frail whimper escaped the mech...

It didn't stop.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Ratchet tidied the last of his things away, pausing as he circled around his desk, his optics falling to the small scratch in the wood. The mark had not been there previously, but after he had come to release First Aid for the orn, the labrador noticed its presence. He had already analyzed it, deducing that it was indeed made with a finger... a small one. Slowly, persistently, absentmindedly...

"Primus, First Aid... What is going on?," he mumbled to himself. The older mech vented softly, walking towards the filing cabinets, dumping his files inside the locked drawers. He heard something hiss behind him and quickly the autodog whirled around, optics narrowed suspiciously. He saw no one, and even shadowy, Ratchet doubted that anyone could hide in the thin corners.

"Hello?," he gruffed, all the same. Better to play the side of caution than run into a... situation.

No answer greeted him. Keeping on-guard, Ratchet slowly paced around his office, optics snapping to the piece of paper that wafted across the bottom of the floor; attempting to blow itself under his desk. Fists clenched, the vet quickly ducked, scooping it up and standing upright once more. No words could describe the relief he felt as nothing tried to attack him from the hollow space beneath his desk, but it was a feeling that quickly faded as he smoothed out the crumpled paper, staring at the message scrawled out quickly.

_'Mr. Helper,_

_I remember you. Your scent, your colours._

_I doubt you remember me._

_Good. We can play surprise later, should you ever be unwise and hurt First Aid. Remember that only the memory of you is what keeps you alive, as it is._

_Don't make me regret that I let you live, merely because he chose you.'_

"Remember...," Ratchet mumbled to himself, brow furrowing in confusion and trepidation. Someone had snuck this into his office as he was working; someone was deliberately threatening him. And it all tied into First Aid... how? "This situation is bigger than first thought..." The labrador folded the note, slipping into his coat pocket. He glanced at his clock. It was too late to bother First Aid now, even despite his incessant worries.

He'd just have to wait until morning to call the other autodog.

Shoulders tense, Ratchet quickly finished putting away the last of his things for the night, before grabbing his keys and leaving his office.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

"First Aid, I was trying to-" Ratchet paused as he looked away from his datapad, trying to hide the grimace spreading across his lip components, but failing. "First Aid... you look horrible..."

The australian shepherd knew. He had woken up on the floor -probably passed out from crying the night before- his pager beeping incessantly, and his bloody servo numb and scabbing. He had wrapped it quickly, holding it now in his coat pocket, ignoring the stabbing ache that pulsed up his arm intermittently.

Ratchet rose from his chair, circling around the desk slowly, approaching the younger mech as if he was a small animal and he feared any sudden movements would frighten the other away. "What... happened last night?," the vet asked warily. "I tried to call you this morning, but the phone said-"

"I know," First Aid interrupted quietly. He shuttered his optics up at the labrador as he gaped in shock. "I'm sorry; there seems to be a problem with my phone. I'm having it fixed."

Ratchet frowned, suspiciously. "I... see..."

"...you paged me?," his assistant continued after a moment, still staring up at the other autodog blankly. Ratchet tried not to squirm too much under the flat, lifeless optics; haunted by the sight of them. He'd seen more than a few cases of optics like that when he'd been working the late-night, emergency ward...

Folding his arms over his chestplates uneasily, the labrador sat on the edge of his desk, his intense gaze scrutinizing the smaller mech. "Yes... About yesterday- I thought about it, and I think we need to talk. You don't have to tell me any details, or names, but I'm concerned First Aid. Even... even if you just want to tell me things I could do to help you, that'll be enough. I can see that something's happened and I really want to help you through this rough patch, kid," he sighed, "You've got so much potential, and a really kind spark, I don't-"

The rest of his words tumbled out of his mouth silently as First Aid physically turned away from him, glancing at the clock. Momentary rage flared through the older mech, before it died and his fuel tanks roiled uneasily. First Aid had never been disrespectful like this. "First Aid, listen, I-"

"...sir," the australian shepherd cut in again. He glanced quickly at the other autodog. "You said beforehand that there was some vacation time I was able to take, if I so wished it."

Slowly, Ratchet nodded.

"I want to take it now."

Flat, blue optics turned to him, waiting expectantly. Ratchet could not help it that he scowled at their sight. Forcing himself to take a weary intake, the older mech slumped his shoulders, letting his servos drop down by his sides. "If that's what you really want, First Aid," he replied wearily, "Then I'll go write up the forms giving you a month's vacation." He stood for a moment, expecting maybe some sort of response from his assistant... but First Aid never replied.

Sighing, Ratchet pushed away from his desk. "I'll just be a few kliks," he informed as he passed the australian shepherd, patting his shoulder to offer comfort to the smaller mech and himself. First Aid did not even turn around as the labrador left the room. Slowly, after a couple kliks, he glanced at the closed door, before walking quickly to the computer.

His fingers ran fluidly and methodically over the keys as he logged in under Ratchet's account; delving head-first into the hospital's medical files. His optics lit -only for an astrosecond- as he found what he had been looking for; saving and copying the file to a USB he had slipped away in his pocket. He had just disconnected and was walking back to the spot he had vacated when the door opened again.

Ratchet paused, surprised to see that the white mech had actually moved, but did not take much meaning in it. "You're free to go," he said, handing First Aid a thin folder. "But please, if you feel you want to come in, even just to visit or the like, do. I'd also like to hear from you from time to time, if that's okay. Just... just to make sure you're doing alright."

First Aid shuttered his optics slowly up at his superior. "...Of course, sir," he replied. He politely stepped pass the other mech and walked for the door. "Good day, sir."

The vet turned to watch the smaller autodog go, fists clenching at his sides in unease and worry. "Yeah... bye..."

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

He'd turn on the computer, the moment he had returned home.

Lies... It was all lies...

Something had been niggling at the back of his processor, memories that he could barely remember but did not make sense. He remembered the terror of that evil place; the war that had stripped him from his family, made him fearful of kittycons for a time...

All of them... they'd all been in on it...

He remembered death and blank optics staring up at him, devoid of all life and feeling... The same optics that smiled at him now and glittered with warmth.

Lies!

First Aid started to chuckle as he leaned away from the terminal, a servo rising to his mouth as his giggles slowly bled into mad laughter; tears pooling around his optics and spilling as he kept laughing. Good, old medical reports- they could always be trusted. They never were chalked full of lies.

Not like his family...

Oh, they were good. Hiding the fact that Ignis wasn't his sister all these stellar cycles, that Streetwise had died back then in the war, that Blades had relations with their older brother since before then... creating the small femme that he would be taught to recognize and see as 'sister'...

"W-why...," he chuckled, expression twisting in pain as he stared at the screen, "W-why di-did they do t-this to me...? W-why? I-i thought... t-thought they c-cared..." The australian shepherd laughed again, jumping to his pedes suddenly and kicking his chair away. His servos curled around his ears as he started pacing back and forth quickly, intakes coming in faster and faster with every loop.

"L-liars... a-all lies... I-i..."

He hadn't... This... This was the last thing he would have expected to find. He had just wanted to confirm his brothers' status, maybe find out the name of the Institution that Blades had the majority of his wounds treated at... First Aid stopped, barking with laughter, before he crumbled to the floor, slamming his injured servo on the floorboards over and over again -hard. Energon started seeping out of the bandaging again, smearing across the floor, but even then he didn't stop.

"Lies..."

Smack.

"Lies..."

Smack.

"L-lies..."

Smack.

"LIARS!," he screamed, punching the ground, hearing his knuckles crunch wetly at the impact. Pain shot through his arm and straight into his helm, right behind his optics, but even that wasn't enough to stop the agony raging through his spark. Sobbing, First Aid collapsed to the floor, curling up into a ball.

He had thought... Primus, he had thought so many things. But this revelation proved how little he actually knew. Whimpering, the autodog felt one servo slid up and start to claw through his shirt, at his spark withering just beneath his chestplates. He knew nothing.

He never knew how little faith his family actually had in him. He never knew that his two brothers had been carrying a relationship since before the war, leaving his feelings stupid and unwanted. He never knew that the femme he treasured and loved as a sister was the by-product of his brothers' affections for each other. He never knew that he meant so little to the family. He never knew that his opinion, his knowledge of their terse family situation, was insignificant to the others.

That he was so unworthy to know the truth...

Worthless...

Rolling over, the trembling australian shepherd buried his choking tears and sobs into his knees, sinking beneath the black waters of his despair.

* * *

**C.M.D: ...I'm mean to the sweetest people... Anywho, some questions were certainly stirred up after this. There will be answers on my end, be sure of that, but for any questions about Streetwise and Blades' past, please check my friends fic out every once in a while **** [ /s/8982881/1/Wreckers-Online]** for that chapter. For now, I can tell you that 'Ignis' is an O.C written by Randomus, and yes, as implicated, she is the daughter of Streetwise and Blades. Can we say family conflict?  
Until next time my dear readers, be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?


	5. Blades and First Aid IV

**C.M.D: Sorry I don't have any other updates this month, guys. Unfortunately, with visiting family out in country town earlier this month and rushing to prepare for TFcon next week, I just haven't that much writing time. In either case, I'm going to throw some more angst at you all since I've already got this chapters weeping away in my folder~ Oh, and for all you eager readers, Blades' back story chapter is now up and available on my friends account! http:(/) s(/)8982881(/)1(/)Wreckers-Online. Now go forth! Read and cry! ^ ^**

* * *

_**Rating: M**_

* * *

He gasped softly as his helm was tipped to the side, a hot glossa sliding up his cheekplate, licking away his stream of tears. "Mmm," the kittycon purred into his ear, "Even your tears taste sweet. How curious."

Doubtful, he wanted to say. But he decided the statement wasn't worth the energy to produce vocally. Best to remain focused on only the servos running up and down his frame, tugging his pants low impatiently as he was cupped closer to the other mech's chassis. First Aid could not help the little flinch he gave as the stranger picked leisurely at his codpiece; the hissing sound of plating retracting, announcing that he had unveiled his own spike.

The kittycon chuckled darkly. "Scared, are we?," he teased, his lip components ghosting a trail down the autodog's neck, nipping harshly at the cables. "Typical, really... But you surprise me, mutt. I never expected you'd come looking for me, begging me to frag you again."

The australian shepherd moaned reluctantly as his upper torso was shoved into the wall; his aft grabbed and lifted up as the other mech finally managed to coax his plating back, sliding his erect spike straight into the vet's valve. Grunting, as the entry had been a little drier than preferred, First Aid rapidly blinked back the rest of his tears, struggling to keep his intakes even. "W-what... what d-do you c-care?," he mumbled in reply. "Y-you're getting some... i-isn't that e-enough?"

The kittycon purred as he pinned First Aid to the wall, his other servo grabbing the autodog's hip as he pulled out slowly and rocked back in. "True," he rumbled, picking up his pace every astrosecond, "But t-then again, I'm n-not the pathetic, sniveling mutt c-chasing shadows down in sketchy clubs and dangerous a-alleyways."

The vet could not even protest such an insult. Valve stretching widely around the pounding spike, slow to lubricate, it was all he could do to keep from crying out in either pain or sorrow. He knew he was pathetic -pitiful really. It's what had driven First Aid here in the first place. Fingers scrambling against the wall, the australian shepherd tried to focus his thoughts only on the brick scraping his captured wrists, the unpleasant assault the kittycon was ravaging on his valve, or even the way his intakes slowly hitched as groans starting to fall faster out of his mouth.

"P...p-please...," the gasping plea escaped him as he arched back into the kittycon, whimpering as his sensors were ground against hard, sending excited jolts of electricity up his spinal struts, "Please, I-i... M-make me f-forget. M-make m-me not r-remember a-anything."

The lynx paused, hilt-deep inside of him, grabbing the autodog's chin and tipping his helm back uncomfortably until the tearful optics were shuttering up into his visor. Unable to move or even pull away, First Aid watched as a vicious grin split apart under that bloody banner; its glow dimming just enough to highlight how amusing the stranger found all of this. "Of course," he husked, leaning down and unceremoniously thrusting his glossa into the smaller mech's mouth, "Mmmm... Let Vortex give you something to ponder about."

There was only an astrosecond to register the words and to shiver in disgust at the glossa slipping around in his mouth like some eel, before the kittycon was pulling back entirely and shoving First Aid's face against the wall as he broke out into a series of hard and quick thrusts. Despite the pain that burned its way across his neural net as his cheekplate scraped against the ragged brick, the autodog was content all the same; feeling all thought and other useless emotion ripped away, as he was twisted and spun into this cruel, beautiful blend of ecstasy and agony.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

He woke up, feeling something nibbling on his servo.

Optics onlining, First Aid stared up at the nude lynx crouching by his bedside; his servo clutched tenderly in the other's grasp, his glossa and denta circling the bleeding wound around his servo. "Good morning," Vortex chuckled darkly, noticing the autodog's attentiveness. "I noticed your little servo bleeding -I thought I'd have myself a taste."

First Aid said nothing to that, tiredly pulling his servo free from Vortex's grasp. He rolled away, resting the freshly opened wound against the sheets, watching blankly as it bubbled and stained the white fabric. The mattress creaked as the lynx climbed up over him, hovering like a black shadow in his berth.

"Come now...," his sick vocalizer cooed, dipping closer, "You don't really want to ignore me. If you did... you would never have invited me in..." The australian shepherd could feel the smirk on the other's face as his mouth pressed against his neck cables, forcing his helm to tip further on the pillow. The stranger spoke truth, he noted through his indifference. This vampire he had willingly invited into his home; opened his doors, opened his legs and begged to be devoured.

Because it was better than thinking... than... remembering...

First Aid turned slightly, spreading his legs for the servo slowly slithering between his thighs and gasping as the lynx slid his fingers into his valve without a second thought. "So willing," Vortex chuckled softly against his ear. The grey mech growled momentarily as he grabbed the autodog's leg, bending it towards First Aid's chestplates, his pressurized spike already pressing against the lip of his valve.

First Aid shuttered his optics, waiting for the strike.

He onlined them quickly, flinching as Vortex grabbed his bleeding servo; one claw digging into the fresh wound hard, making it trickle fresh energon. This constant, and often harsh treatment, to it only continued to halt its healing. If it ever did... it would surely scar now.

"You're such a little whore," the kittycon growled above his helm as he finally thrust in, grinning wickedly at the strangling gasp the australian shepherd gave. Humming contently, Vortex broke out into a hard pace, pushing First Aid down into the sheets; his red visor fixed down on the frantically moaning and panting vet.

"S-so pathetic... so pitiful... so d-desperate..." His mouth twisted wider with his vicious amusement. "...so self-destructive...You've been more of a treat than I had first anticipated. Thank you sweetly, lil' Aid."

He had no protest to offer. Squinting through his glazed optics up at the looming kittycon, the white mech was only relieved that the grim glow of the other's visor offered him no route of illusion, no hope of pretending. This was here, this was now; this was painful, this was liberating. Gasping, First Aid arched up into Vortex's plundering, his free servo catching the other's arm and digging his fingers in tightly as he smiled deliriously, feeling all conscious thought and sensation fade away. Leaving only the bitter-sweet remains that this mech alone was pouring upon him.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Ignis shifted her grip carefully, clinging to the window frame tightly as her other servo picked and worked the wire slowly; easing it around the inside latch and finally snapping it back. With a sigh of relief, the femme yanked the wire out, grabbing the window and opening it wide. She was aware that anyone watching could call the police, no doubt thinking her a burglar or something, but right now she was less concerned about that. It had been a couple weeks since First Aid had stopped talking to the family.

No one could understand why, or even why he had chosen to distance himself from them on the only orn that Blades had come to visit them that month. Though he'd never say it, Ignis could tell that her uncle not showing up that night had really hit Blades hard. He had left dinner early, probably to go check on First Aid's apartment, but considering how quickly Blades returned -even more tense than before- the femme could only assume that her sire had not found the australian shepherd at home. Everybody was upset and worried... And then Groove had called the hospital the next morning, and found that First Aid was okay...

Blades departure that orn had been less than pleasant.

Ignis slowly stepped down into the apartment, not hearing a sound that said anyone was home. Cautious, she took a step further inside, double-checking that her dagger was in easy reach should she need it.

She could understand everybody being hurt and even angry at First Aid for his behaviour, but Ignis couldn't believe that the vet would do something like this without good reason. She'd had to wait until later, but she had tried to call the mech, just to tell him that she was sorry that he missed Blades' visit and that she really missed him, and if he could come over and have some cake with her. Just like they used to when they were small. The flat, mocking beep had denied her.

No phone... and now, not even attending work, as she had discovered yesterday...

A feeling of dread, first just confused uncertainty, had started to spread its poisonous roots and it strangled Ignis now; its seed a heavy weight unsettling her fuel tanks. Blades had taught her to always trust her instincts, and right now, they were screaming out that something was wrong.

Silently, the femme tip-toed through the modest apartment, optics taking in everything. The few, dirty dishes in the sink, the empty hallway table where the phone usually sat, its ripped wire still in the jack... Dark and empty, even despite the sunlight shining brightly outside, the apartment did not even feel like her uncle's any more. It felt like a stranger's home...

Swallowing uneasily, Ignis approached the berthroom; gently grasping the knob and pushing it open. Her olfactory sensors twinged in displeasure as the scent of old transfluids smacked her straight in the face; opening the door further, she could see that the berth was, thankfully, empty. But the state it was left in did not make her feel any more comfortable. Twisted and ripped in spots, the sheets were practically slipping off the berth, leaving the plain and sullen mattress open to her view. Holding a servo to her face, Ignis walked inside further, optics flaring as he worry increased; her fuel tanks roiling sickly.

There was energon...

Dried in spots on the floor. Staining the sheets in places. Mixed in with the copious amount of transfluid drying into the fabric. At the violent display before her, Ignis started to back up, feeling both dizzy and suddenly weak in the knee joints.

First Aid...

Despite how sweet and loving he was, had never dated. He'd always been single, and happy as such, Ignis remembered. He had wanted to be a vet and to him that was more important than highschool romances. No one questioned it. They were merely happy to see that innocent mech smile and be filled with such life, no matter what he found joy in. As such, the femme also knew that her uncle was sealed. That had not changed any time soon, and if it had, in some effect, she knew that First Aid would have said as such to his family. He never kept secrets from them.

"F...first Aid...," Ignis mumbled, gagging as the stench hit her hard again. Her hip smacked into the desk against the wall, making the computer screen flash to life. Caught off-guard by its response, the femme whirled around, facing the terminal; all thoughts of rape and First Aid chased from her processor for a moment.

That moment stretched longer as she realized what was staring up at her from the computer monitor.

"...o-oh... oh no...," she whimpered softly, feeling tears fill her optics. Medical files. First Aid had been looking at their medical files... Hers, to be exact. The box stating her sire and carrier glowed up at her mockingly; for once, the sight of those two names causing a stabbing pain to pierce through her spark.

First Aid...

He knew. He knew he had been lied to.

A sound from down the hall outside the apartment jolted Ignis out of her horrified daze. Like a bullet, she dashed from the room, leaping up and out of the living room window and for the tree she had used to get close, without a second thought. Spark whirling wildly -in pain, fear and sorrow- the femme quickly scaled down the bark; sprinting down the street and towards home.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

The bed creaked as he rose, sniffling slightly and turning in his spot, resting his pedes on the floor. The wood was chill against the plating, but he remained seated -hunched over, one servo rubbing tiredly at his optics- still not willing to move just yet. Once again, he wondered why he was here... why he kept doing this...

"...You're over-thinking again..."

The mech turned his helm slightly towards the sleepy mumble, watching as the Akita stretched slowly across the berth; the sheets pulling taut across his lithe frame. Blue optics onlined, glowing up at him warmly, and for a moment, the younger autodog believed that it was really his brother Streetwise looking up at him... The one he loved...

But the moment passed quickly and there were only blue optics staring back up at him from a shell that mimicked his long departed brother.

"Blades...," Streetwise sighed, knowing exactly where the silent mech's thoughts had gone. He sat up, attempting to reach over and touch the bull terrier's shoulder plating. Immediately, Blades flinched away from the contact; rising to his pedes and crossing the room for his pants.

"I gotta go...," he mumbled. "I've got-"

"Blades," the white and grey mech repeated, pulling the sheets up and covering himself modestly, "You don't need to make excuses. I know you can't stay."

Blades slowed down, but did not stop entirely. "...I shouldn't even be here," he added softly, not looking back at his brother. "This was a mistake. I..."

Smiling kindly, Streetwise rose out of the berth as well, walking unabashedly towards the bathroom. Despite his reluctance, the bull terrier's optics followed his form, subconsciously tracing the curves of the other's frame. "It's alright, Blades," the akita continued, stopping at the bathroom sink; his aft and its incriminating stains in plain view of the younger autodog. "What we're doing... You and I are both under agreement; this is only a release. What we once had... it's over now..."

Even if he agreed, hearing those words -coming out of Streetwise's mouth, spoken with his vocalizer, so kindly and callously- stung and Blades did his best not to snap out of pain. "T-that's not-"

Streetwise turned his helm, staring at his brother quietly. "...but it is," he spoke after a moment. His gaze softened and his smile pulled on his lip components, serene but still tinged with a touch of sadness. "You no longer see me as your same brother any more, Blades, and I have accepted that. What happened during the war has changed us all... but, despite everything, I know I will forever cherish the memories of us, young and in love. And I know that you'll do the same too."

The guilt was eating him alive the longer he looked into those fathomless optics. He hated it... hated that smile and that kindness and just how right this Streetwise was... because it only proved just how much Blades had failed and how much it had all cost them in the end. It was only through a twisted miracle of wonder that Streetwise was even with them once again, but a living frame and glowing spark did not mean that his brother was truly resurrected. The akita he had loved had died in his arms... with the word 'monster' on his lip components as he cursed Blades to his grave...

Tearing his helm away finally, Blades yanked his pants on, fuel tanks churning with disgust. "I... just stop talking...," he grumbled, searching the room for his shirt. "I shouldn't even be here. Yoketron will slag me for ditching when I get back. You better not tell the others that I was-"

"I won't." Streetwise was leaning against the bathroom doorframe now, arms crossed loosely over his chestplates as he looked at his brother. "I never do," he added.

Blades didn't respond to that, increasing his efforts toward his search; feeling his emotions tug in several thousand directions at the quiet hurt present in the other's tone. The crushing need to escape pressed down on him harder, and he knew he only had himself to blame for feeling torn this way. With a bitter-sweet victory, he managed to pull his shirt out from under the bed, untangling it from Streetwise's trousers and throwing it over his helm. Both were silent as Blades gathered together the rest of his things; grabbing his duffel bag and heading for the motel door.

"Blades...," Streetwise called softly. The bull terrier paused just before the door. "Please... talk to him."

Ears raised in stunned disbelief, Blades half-looking over his shoulder plating warily. Streetwise smiled in kind understanding. "I do not who it might be that has won your spark after so long... but he deserves enough respect, I think, to know how you feel about him. Besides," the elder autodog said, "He may just feel the same back... You deserve to be happy..."

Coolant glazed his optics faster than he would have expected and caught off-guard by the action, the red mech could only snap his helm back towards the door. For a moment, he saw blinding white and unjudging optics glowing up at him and felt a sliver of lust and want unfold inside him before he squashed it in fear and guilt. Cycling a stiff intake, Blades shouldered his bag higher, turning contrite optics to his waiting brother.

"Y-you... you too," he mumbled back, "Be happy Streetwise."

He did not see the way the akita smiled sadly as he left, happy but lonely tears filling his optics.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

When he had woken that morning, Vortex was nowhere to be found. Confused, even through his daze, First Aid had risen. It had taken much prodding from himself and more time spent idling, before he could even be bothered to clean the last few orn's activities off of his plating and dress, but all of this he did quickly when he felt those haunting voices begin to jeer from the bland walls. Shoving his way through panic, the australian shepherd managed to make himself look presentable before he fled his apartment entirely, desperate for air.

This was dangerous, he realized, circling his block for the umpteenth time. Shivering arms held himself as the vet looked about suspiciously, unable to squash the chilling sensation that everyone was watching him. He was losing his very mind, First Aid knew, and he was mere inches away from toppling over this worrisome precipice to the well of madness beneath. If he continued down this dark path...

First Aid shook his helm, rounding the corner past the local newsstand yet again. He could feel the bubble of dark, black sludge boiling inside of him; hissing and swelling with its belly of vicious things, promising to expand until its tar-like skin could withstand it no longer and implode, tainting him entirely from within. He didn't want that... Didn't want to feel those things or think about t-that...

Vortex, his processor reminded him quickly. Vortex could make him forget. Vortex would tear it all away from him. The effect was instantaneous. Like running water over his frame, calm spread through the autodog's circuits, easing away his trouble, paranoia and terror. The frightening, evil, dangerous kittycon was perfect in his rapidly shattering perception, granting to the vet all the escapes he could ever hope for. To this creature he had willing written over all possession of himself, and First Aid was becoming addicted to the sort of cruelty he had become a slave to.

It was perfect, he smiled deliriously, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk for a moment.

Beautiful... painful... relinquishing...

First Aid started to shake and he forced himself into walking again, his smile falling off his face as realization set in. Vortex was the purest form of rapture there was to be found, his intoxicating drug, but the lynx had left. He was not around. If... if he did not return...

The australian shepherd hugged himself tightly again, increasing his pace until he had made his way back to his building. He eyed the apartment anxiously, shrinking at the voices starting to hiss and chuckle at the back of his helm. No... no... He had to come back! He would! He was the only one who could make it all go away and the autodog had sold himself to him, he-

First Aid didn't remember entering the building. He couldn't even remember the trip upstairs. But there he was again, standing in the entry way of his apartment, his dazed optics trying to make sense of the lynx lounging easily against the opposite wall. "Well, well, well...," Vortex crooned, visor pulsing eerily in the dim light. "I wandered in, expecting a surprise, only to find that you'd wandered off yourself, pet. I didn't think you were even capable of it."

An insult, a part of him noted. Yet, he didn't care. A feverish heat overtook him and the vet found himself pressed to the kittycon a moment later, servos twisting into the other's shirt and his mouth gasping as he breathed in the wild, bloody scent Vortex exuded. He was here. He had returned. Just as he had thought...

He had to make him stay. Sell him something new...

"P-please...," the australian shepherd begged, intakes rattling, even as he struggled to speak. He turned his tortured optics up to the lynx. "P-please... d-do not... don't l-leave a-again... S-Stay. I... I'll d-do anything. H-hurt me. S-stay and you c-can hurt me. I-i... I n-need..."

A grin split across that diabolical face and it caused a series of chills to jolt across his sensory grid in hungry anticipation. The devil had bitten; his apple, so chewed and sucked dry, still offered a final sweetness and this mech was drawn in. Knowing this -seeing this- was ecstasy itself to the poor 'bot. Gasping, First Aid did not protest the servo that ripped him free from the kittycon's frame; back-handing him and sending him crashing to the ground below.

Trembling -needily, hungrily, wantonly, desperately- he yelped and whimpered as his arm was twisted violently behind his back, one wayward servo trailing down his backside to his pants.

Panting, First Aid smiled, ready for sweet oblivion.

* * *

**C.M.D: Oh, yea, I forgot to mention you all may hate me. And Vortex XD  
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	6. Blades and First Aid V

**C.M.D: Well, once again it's a new month and even though I didn't quite make it for update period, I thought, what's the harm in posting up a chapter or two a little late? I know all you wonderful readers are eager all the same to see what happens next to our favourite characters (if dreading it a bit~) So, here we go, a new chapter, chalk full of ripe angst for you all to sink your teeth in! Oh, just a reminder, do check out my friend Randomus' fic _Wreckers Online_ for more information on Blades' background story and leave a comment on what you think. ^ ^**

* * *

_**Rating: M**_

* * *

The incessant buzzing broke through his haze of sleep. Stirring slowly, the autodog raised his helm, turning his aching neck around slowly, trying to pinpoint the sound. The heavy arm around his waist slipped off; his partner grunting softly, rolling over, kicking him away a tad. Fully awake now from the action, he shakily got to his pedes, stumbling away from the berth. The harrowing noise led him aimlessly around the room, until he found the source: a small plastic rectangle, buried in week's old laundry, with only a number written across its thin face.

The hospital...

First Aid felt conscience slowly return to him a little as he thumbed across the top of the object, silencing its noise. Getting back to his pedes, the australian shepherd slowly limped out of the room. Warm light peeked through the blinds, stinging his optics, but he merely raised a servo to them weakly, continuing his stagger to the kitchen. His trip ended with him nearly walking into the wall; helm tipping back as shaking fingers skimmed across the calendar pinned up.

Down the first week, then the second, and even the third, his finger snaked, before coming to a rest on the fourth day from the end of the month. Today's date. Shuttering his optics slowly, the autodog quietly stood, absorbing this revelation. His vacation was over, a part of him noted. He would have to go back to work; stop seeing Vortex...

As if to confirm that, his pager went off again. This time, it was Ratchet's personal cell number.

First Aid stared at the buzzing device, his fingers curling around it sluggishly, strangling it. He could not crush it, but now, it buzzed uselessly in his scarred servo. Walking to the sink, the vet plugged the drain, turning on the tap and watching water fill the basin. When it was more than half way, First Aid lifted his servo over the swirling water, dropping the pager into the frigid liquid. It plunked under the frothing surface with barely a sound, sinking almost delicately to the bottom.

Helm canted to the side, the australian shepherd turned the water off, staring blankly into the full sink for some time. He didn't hear the other mech sneak up behind him but he did feel the claws as they curled around the side of his face; digging into his cheekplate lightly, yanking him away from the counter.

"Someone wandered away," the sick voice purred above him, red visor glowing thinly. First Aid said nothing, looking up at Vortex dazedly, feeling hunger rise up within him. The kittycon could see the addiction shine in his glazed optics and his lip components split into a wide grin over sharp fangs.

With all the mocking tenderness of a lover, he pulled the autodog away from the kitchen and toward the bathroom; flicking the light on as he half-shoved First Aid inside. "My, my, my...," he chuckled lowly in amusement, "It seems someone is hungry. Good... I needed a diligent mouth."

First Aid did not make a sound as he was slapped, picked up and dropped carelessly into the bottom of the tub. Shivering against the cold metal, he looked up as Vortex climbed in next; the kittycon ignoring him as he reached behind the smaller mech, turning nozzles and reaching for the soap. "Well," he said coldly, looking down on the autodog disinterestedly. "What are you waiting for? Get to work."

The australian shepherd did not understand for a moment, wiping away the water that splashed down his face as Vortex casually began to shower. The lynx's command was made clear as his codpiece retracted, his spike brushing up along the other's cheekplate. Optics shuttering slowly, First Aid pushed himself up, knees bracing against the slick tub as his mouth and servos wrapped around the rigid cord. Something akin to peace came over him as he heard Vortex purr at his obedience; the grey mech scrubbing casually at an elbow as the autodog worked.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Ratchet let his phone ring, staring at the bars, as if pondering if they were to blame. But no, they were full, and his call was still getting somewhere apparently... If not, it wouldn't have even rung to begin with. All the same, his unease was growing -and with it, frustration as well. It had been three weeks already. Actually, three weeks and a couple orns.

He had assumed that First Aid would have come back to work yesterday, but the australian shepherd had never shown. That in itself was unusual for his assistant. He'd spent the entire night trying to call him. Every time, the call cut after the first ring, informing him that the number he was trying to reach was unavailable. The labrador had only given up because after a while, he had passed out in his chair, phone still in his servo. The next morning though, he had resumed his efforts.

This time, he tried contacting First Aid's pager.

So far, it had yielded no results. He'd called from the nurses' station several times upon coming in, and when his first slue of patients had been taken care of, he'd grabbed his cell and persistently dialed the other autodog's pager number every few kliks. Still, no answer. The screen of his cellphone lighted as the call automatically ended, having reached the max number of rings it could attempt on one number. Frowning as he sat, waiting to see if someone would call back, Ratchet tried his best to squash the unease tying knots in his tanks.

No calls, no updates on his status, nothing at all that could ensure the older mech that his assistant was doing alright. He'd only given the vacation time to First Aid, believing that he had really needed it, but now the vet wasn't so sure. Maybe what the younger autodog had really needed was to stay at work, or maybe even be kindly taken to the on-site counsellor. Instead though, he'd let First Aid flee at the first, reasonable chance and now Ratchet was beginning to regret it. Being a vet meant that you could pick up the signs... but it didn't always mean you were able to act in time.

And the signs he had read from the australian shepherd that orn showed that his young friend had suffered something traumatic to him, and it was quickly spiraling him down a dangerous path.

A path that he seemed to have already ran half-way down...

Snapping his cell shut, Ratchet growled as he shuffled through his files, ripping his schedule free from a pile of growing paper work. He still had a few cycles to complete in the clinic this orn, but after that, he was free. The labrador cursed. A few cycles was a lot... especially when he was racing against a clock he had never seen before now.

There was no way to get out of it though. The staff was a little bogged down this week, due to the lack of available vets and nurses, as result of a contagious virus that a few patients had brought in. Which meant Ratchet was stuck here until punch-out.

He cursed again.

The autodog rose to his pedes, tugging his medical coat on in ire, marching for his office door. He'd do what he had to -he wouldn't turn away those that needed his help- but the moment all was clear, he was gone. There was someone who needed his help more, right now... and he feared it might be too late.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

He'd been rougher this time.

First Aid slid a servo slowly across his lip components, touching the crack in the soft plating, scabbed over with a stiff streak of energon. Grabbing the wash clothe, he lathered it up with some soap, gently scrubbing away the dirt that clung to his face. The layers lifted but only showed the dent on his cheekplate, so rich and dark, matching the similar ones under both optics. Slowly, the autodog canted his helm, staring at his reflection mutely.

The other mech copied his motion in the glass, shuttering their optics at him blankly.

Who are you?, the question flickered passively across his processor.

A small crash from the living room tore First Aid's attention from the stranger staring back at him; rinsing the clothe quickly, he turned, limping out of the bathroom slowly. Vortex growled, pacing the length of the apartment in stormy silence. He kicked the broken glass -the source of the crash- across the kitchen floor as he rounded back into the living room, hissing something under his intakes as he threw himself onto the couch roughly. The springs popped and squealed at the sudden act, slowly going quiet under the kittycon's frame as he stretched out across the length of it.

Grumbling still, Vortex glared up at the ceiling, fingers tapping restlessly into the fabric. A peculiar response from the lynx, for sure, but First Aid did not notice. Life was a dream -a haze- he merely walked through, fixated on transferring from one moment to the next, ever orchestrated by the spider who he had willingly surrendered to. Walking forward quietly, the australian shepherd approached the kittycon, still unnoticed or more than likely ignored. Of course, he did not notice himself.

Gently, passively, he clambered up onto the couch, slinging one leg over each side of Vortex's waist; servos spreading out slowly over the grey mech's bare chestplates. At his bold touch, the lynx tipped his helm down, staring silently at the autodog. First Aid did not smile or whimper or otherwise show any sign of emotion, but his optics clouded further with his spell as he leaned forwards, servos sliding up to tense shoulders and bruised mouth pressing against a thin one. He moved, sluggishly, almost tentatively down the kittycon's frame; brushing kisses across the other's jaw and neck, even daring to lap into the seams of his chestplates as kittens would.

The australian shepherd made his way down at a snail's pace, continuing with his ministrations, absorbed in his task and the sense of serenity it washed over him, making him even forgetful to the aches and pains he could feel across his own frame.

Without barely a warning, Vortex shoved him off.

First Aid released a small sound as he hit the floor hard, jarring his shoulder at his unexpected tumble. Looking around dazedly, the vet struggled to push himself up, watching as Vortex rose from the couch and stalked through the apartment without a backwards glance at him. A jolt of panic flashed through First Aid as he realized that the kittycon was heading for the door. Opening his mouth, he tried to speak, but the words only tripped out in a pathetic squeak of static, betraying him.

_Come back_, he wanted to whimper.

_Come back._

_I need you._

_I **love** you..._

Vortex did not stop. "Your fridge is empty," was all he said, before the apartment door was slamming shut behind him.

Robbed of all energy and sense, First Aid dropped back down to the floor; wheezing weakly as trembles overcame him, already desperate for the lynx to return.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Blades rubbed the back of his helm where Yoketron had "accidentally" clipped him with the back of his walking stick, glaring at the old mech's back as he walked around to the filing cabinet. "...old fart...," he mumbled under his intakes.

"I still have ears as sharp as a young pup's," came the quick reply.

The bull terrier stuck his glossa at Yoketron. "I had thought you were a mech now, Blades," the old mech added, his calm vocalizer unusually smug, "Making faces behind my backstruts is certainly not the mark of an independent autodog."

_'How the frag does he do that?!,'_ Blades yelled baffled in his processor.

"With many years of practice."

Turning, Yoketron smiled at the visibly disturbed mercenary, looking very much the picture of a sweet, innocent old mech. Blades knew better though. Crossing his arms over his chestplates, the younger autodog snorted impatiently, eyeing the intelligence officer up and down discretely. "So other than to bore me, why the slag am I in here?," he asked tersely, "I thought I had a mission to get to."

"Unfortunately, due to your lack of presence, it has been handed off to someone else equally capable for the task," the kai ken continued, ignoring the sullen glare Blades sent him. Circling around the room, the old mech took a seat in his chair on the other side of the desk. With a small flick of his servo, he gestured for Blades to take the other seat directly across from him.

With a short huff, the red autodog did such, still burning holes into Yoketron's helm. "By the way, you did receive some mail during your... absence...," the other announced, shuffling through a stack of envelopes. He drew out a bundle of eight or so, tied together with a rubber band, before holding it across the desk for his companion to take.

Blades stared at it, bewildered by the amount.

Yoketron waited until the bull terrier had taken the envelopes before slowly shuffling through the few folders on his desk; folding his servos together as he fixed his attention back to the other mech. "Now, seeing as you have a fair amount of 'vacation time', perhaps we could get you started back on your training. I understand you find the practice drills ridiculous, but if you slack off in any of them, you are more prone to temper tantrums and the last thing we need is for another decimation of an entire enemy squad," the intelligence officer said, "And during a reconnaissance mission, no less."

The mercenary, of course, was barely paying attention. He pulled the rubber band off of his mail, shuffling through them. All were letters from Ignis. The very last one was marked 'Urgent', in red pen, with her cursive scrawl. Spark puttering shortly at the sight, he quickly dropped the others into his lap; tearing into the one envelope.

"You won't need to fret. Another mission will be coming around shortly, and if it is suitable, you will be the first I hand it off to, so-" A polite knock at the door interrupted the kai ken. Glancing at his companion, seeing that he was being fully ignored now, Yoketron sighed, before gesturing to the mech through the little window.

The soldier bowed his helm respectively as he entered, heading straight for the older mech. Yoketron accepted the datapad he carried with him, turning it on. His expression grew reserved as he slowly scrolled through the report; at one point, he stopped altogether, looking up at Blades with an unreadable look, before continuing all the way to the bottom.

With a nod and a wave, he dismissed the soldier, rising to his pedes and starting to gather his things, the datapad on top.

Blades never noticed. His optics were glued to the paper in his servos, flaring as he re-read over the short paragraph. Ignis never had wrote short letters before, but then again, she had never shared with him such mysterious, frightening news. She had even skipped her usual 'love you' sign off, and instead had written stiffly, 'Get home.'

Shaking -with rage, with fear, with nausea, with anything and everything- the bull terrier crumpled the letter as he jumped to his pedes, turning towards the door with a ferocious snarl. He was immediately intercepted by Yoketron.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way. Old. Aft," he bit between his denta.

The kai ken folded his servos neatly over the sparrow top of his cane, refusing to budge. "I do not know what has upset you now, Blades, but I can assure you, it takes second precedence."

The bull terrier snarled at that. "Move," he warned one last time, his optics glaring with the finality of his patience. Yoketron merely shuttered his optics up at him.

Growling, Blades tried to flank around the older autodog to grab the door. Solid wood cracked across his servo as he was shoved back with a quick sweep of the other's servo. Stumbling, optics flared slightly in surprise at Yoketron's daring move, the mercenary roared, before charging across the small space, arms outstretched.

The kai ken barely flinched. He swept forward, side-stepping once, twice; twirling like ribbons in the wind as he knocked Blades' arms aside, grabbing his elbow, twisting it until the joint cracked dangerously, before taking a quick step back. He followed up with a deft kick to the bull terrier's hip, making one leg collapse under him; thin pedes sweeping up, cracking Blades' helm back with a wet sound before Yoketron flipped over the younger mech entirely. Trying to wheeze through what might of been a broken rib piping from the earlier elbow jab, the mercenary flinched against the cane held against his neck cables, noticing cool, blue optics looking down on him from the corner of his vision.

"Do not make me restrain you, Blades," Yoketron said softly. "You would serve me better right now, uninjured and cooperating."

Blades glared at the insult. Still, he knew better than to struggle when he was already pinned down. The intelligence officer was a hard enough opponent when he was standing. Waiting a moment longer, Yoketron slowly withdrew his cane, unsurprised when the younger mech took this opportunity to leap to his pedes; whirling around on the other with a snarl.

Sighing, he kai ken did not move from his spot. "Be angry at me if you must," he started as Blades charged across the room, prepared now for any fancy moves, "But the situation has changed in regards to several factors. I'm calling everyone in."

The fist whistling through the air stopped inches before his faceplates.

Huffing lightly with rage, Blades stared uncertainly at the older mech. Raising a servo after a moment, Yoketron grabbed his companion's fist; gently lowering it back down to his side.

The bull terrier decided to let it slide. "What... situation?," he asked lowly, still trying to cap his anger. He was mad; he wanted to pummel something. He wanted to run all the way back to Iacon, comfort his little femme, find the 'bot that left strange stains in First Aid's berth and kill them. But curiosity was tugging, and his sensors tingled as he noticed a particular bloodlust rising in Yoketron.

It had been almost stellar cycles since he had last noticed that.

Turning away, the kai ken walked to the door, opening it. "You will be informed shortly," he said, glancing back at Blades seriously, "Be in Conference room A in five kliks. I would highly advise that you don't be late."

Then he left. Leaving Blades to stand there, pondering on his next course of action.

* * *

**xXxXxXxXx**

* * *

Something warm trickled down past his ears.

Stirring slightly, he tried to online his optics and found that even when he did, everything was a useless, hazy blur. Sluggishly, he began to notice that he couldn't move. Too numb, came the answer, slow like molasses. He could barely feel his limbs, let alone lift them.

The entire world bounced and jarred for a moment; an action that he would not have noticed entirely, if it were not for the fact that his optics could barely keep up with the rapid shift in environment. As it was, it took what felt like kliks for them to reorient themselves again. Now he noticed he was staring at his servo, fingers painted black with dirt and speckles of what looked like energon.

Worry. There should have been worry somewhere there inside of him.

He was lying on his side, on cold, grungy metal. The only source of light was a poor bulb lit, it seemed, miles above his helm. Something still trickled down his cheekplate, tingling every sensor in its wake. He was barely aware that he was not alone; something jerking against his frame, out of sight, releasing a frightened whimper. Several more similar sounds accompanied it as all of reality jostled again.

He started to slip back into the blankness he had woken from, a whispered name ghosting through his processor...

_Vortex..._

Metal clipped loudly against metal. A panicked sob rendered the air.

Then First Aid thought no more.

* * *

**C.M.D: Things are getting_ intense_. What'll come next? Well... you'll have to find out next time, won't you my dear readers~  
Be kind; give me your mind. REVIEW, please?**


End file.
